


DuMont (Tiefling Barbarian)

by TheTravelerWrites



Series: Commissions [15]
Category: Original Work
Genre: D&D, Dungeons & Dragons, Elf, Exophilia, F/M, Half-Elf, Sex, Tiefling, kobold
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-22
Updated: 2019-10-16
Packaged: 2020-09-23 19:30:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,851
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20345506
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheTravelerWrites/pseuds/TheTravelerWrites
Summary: Another fun commission from @ocsmutpocalypse. A tiefling left to die was raised in a cathedral tower. Once the person who raised him dies, he follows the voice of his patron god and finds new companions. Among them is an elf woman with a surprising past. Please leave feedback!





	1. Chapter 1

DuMont hadn’t had the greatest start to life. He was born malformed, hideous even among his own people. Even as an infant, his cry was guttural and otherworldly. His parents, shocked at the sight of him, absconded with him in the dead of night, determined to get rid of what they saw as a mistake of nature. For tieflings, that was saying something. Upon reaching what appeared to be an abandoned cathedral, they were going to just leave the baby inside and let it starve.

They didn’t count on the fact that the cathedral’s elderly priest still lived and worshiped there, though he led a lonely existence since no one had come to receive blessings from him in many years. The discovery of an unfortunate child left on the altar of his crumbling church was less of an inconvenience to him and more of a gift from his long forgotten god, Montro. He therefore named the child DuMont, meaning “Son of Montro.”

The priest could not read, and as such, couldn’t teach DuMont to do so, either. However, he did recite the scriptures of Montro and several other gods in the same pantheon to DuMont, though in his advanced age, he often got them mixed up. DuMont was never sure which of the scriptures were true or not, or what scripture went with which god, but he thought it best not to question it.

Despite the lack of education and limited knowledge afforded to him by the priest, DuMont had an insatiable desire to learn. He was constantly asking the priest questions about this or that thing, much to the priest’s annoyance.

The priest had made it clear early in DuMont’s life that the world outside wouldn’t be safe for him, and that he would be safest in the tower. His own parents had left him to die, after all, so strangers couldn’t be expected to show him much mercy. Sadly, DuMont had accepted this. When not having scripture lessons or eating meals with the priest, DuMont spent his time in the cathedral’s tower, looking out of the broken slats at the world outside, barred from ever leaving.

He watched animals jump and frolic and play in the courtyard, many of which he had no name for. He watched people ambling down the roads, sometimes with horses and carts, sometimes walking. Some were human, like the priest, and some were tiefling, like him, but the other races he couldn’t identify. When he asked the priest, the old man merely told DuMont not to worry about it. He’d never leave this place, anyway, so there was no reason to concern himself with such trifles.

But, unknown to the priest, DuMont had been hearing a voice speak to him in the quiet of the darkness. It never said more than a word or two: _wait,_ or _be patient_. There was always a bell that accompanied the voice DuMont was sure the priest couldn’t hear. Sometimes it was the rumbling toll of a church bell, other times it was the clear ringing of a hand bell, and still others it was the jingling, tinkling sound of dancer’s bells. DuMont didn’t know who or what the voice was, so he did not tell the priest for fear that he would reject him.

As he aged, he grew into a giant at nearly nine feet, far larger than the average tiefling. His muscles had grown massive from doing most of the heavy work for the priest, hauling marble reliefs and moldering pews by the stack. He still walked with a pronounced hunch, using his hands to propel him sometimes when his legs were too short to get the job done. His life was simple, and though he sometimes felt wistful for a different life beyond his reach, he was content.

Until one night while sleeping, he heard the voice waking him, resounding in his head like an alarm bell.

_Go._

DuMont sat up, startled. That was a new one.

_Outside. Now. It’s time._

Lurching to his feet, he felt compelled to obey the voice, and despite his nerves at never having stepped foot out of the church since the day he arrived, he went down, opened the doors, and, slowly, gingerly placed his foot on the cold stone steps outside.

The first thing that hit his senses was the cool night air, fresher than he’d ever breathed, blowing across his skin. The second was the sight of the priest who’d raised him, lying still and stiff on the walkway, his eyes open but unseeing.

Death. DuMont knew what this was; the priest had explained it, but he wasn’t sure what to do. Feeling heavy, heartsick, and a little confused, he picked the priest up, took him back into the church, and laid his body on the altar, kneeling and praying as the priest had taught him.

But… now what?

_Go._

For the first time, DuMont questioned the voice.

“Where?”

_Outside. Time to go. You are needed. _

“By who?”

The voice was silent. DuMont did as he instructed, leaving what had been his home all his life with a pang of anxiety, and stepping cautiously toward the road, not sure what would happen.

He didn’t have to wait long. In the early morning hours, just as dawn began to break, he saw two figures coming down the road; one was human, with a freckled face, wild brown hair, and vivid blue eyes, and the other creature he couldn’t begin to fathom what it was, with it’s reptilian form and flowing blue frock. They were holding hands and talking, laughing, and leaning close. DuMont tried to parse out what such behavior meant, but came up with nothing.

Suddenly, they stopped, catching sight of him. The… female? She immediately drew a weapon, but the human put a hand on it and lowered it gently, shaking his head. He stepped forward and pushed the other creature behind him.

“Hello, friend,” He said, a little trepidatiously. “My name is Rupert. Can I ask you your name?”

DuMont was silent for a moment. He’d never spoken to anyone besides the priest, who had often told him that his voice was too loud and harsh for the ear, suggesting that he whisper instead.

“DuMont,” He responded slowly, quietly. “I am DuMont.” He pointed at the female creature. “What are you?”

“Well, that’s rude,” She said, hands on her hips.

“No, Darling, I think he literally doesn’t know what race you are,” Rupert said. “This is Sanoh. She’s a creature known as a kobold. They’re related to lizardfolk.”

DuMont stared blankly; then again, that’s just how his face looked. But he was genuinely perplexed.

“Um…” Rupert hummed, trying to get a feel for this. “We were looking for a place to rest. We’ve been on the road for a couple of days and have been sleeping on the roadside. Do you know where we could bed down for a while?”

DuMont turned and pointed. The crumbling cathedral sat on the hill.

“Do you live there?” Sanoh asked.

“Yes,” DuMont said, keeping his voice carefully modulated. “In the tower.”

“Would it be okay if we stayed a day or two? We could pay you for the trouble?” Rupert offered.

“Pay?” DuMont repeated.

Sanoh’s spiky eyebrows furrowed. “Just how long have you been in that tower?”

“Until today,” DuMont replied.

Rupert and Sanoh exchanged a look.

“Do you want to live there?”

DuMont thought about it. “No. I want to learn.”

“How about this,” Rupert said. “We’ll stay in the cathedral for a few days, rest up and everything, and then when we’re ready to leave, you come with us. It sounds like you could use some fresh air, maybe see the world a little. What do you say?”

Hunched, feeling slightly vulnerable, DuMont nodded his massive head in agreement.

* * *

Enania Enjor, princess of the Elven kingdom of Zylthana, had the best childhood a person could want. A legion of servants at her beck and call, as much food, wine, and money as she could ever use, the nicest clothes, the finest jewelry. Parents and siblings who doted on her, the unshakable love of her people. All of it decadent and indulgent.

All of it boring. Tedious. Dull. More adjectives. All the bad ones.

One day, Enania decided she was sick of it. Her older brother was the crown prince; they didn’t really need her to be around. Besides, they’d likely marry her off to some stuffy noble to strengthen their hold in the north, and she had no interest in that at all. So, plain and simple, she ran away.

In the middle of the night, she packed a light rucksack with clothes and a large sum of coin, dodged her retainers, and took off on her horse, a _very _expensive breed gifted to her on her eighteenth birthday by a lord hoping to gain her favor. Too bad he was just as boring as the rest of the prissy, fussy dandies of the court.

After deciding to change her name to Kharis for anonymity and cutting off her family’s signature black curls, she left a note asking her parents not to send anyone to follow her, that she’s come to visit, that she was fine and just exploring the world a bit and not to cramp her style. She signed it, “love you!” so, you know, that was good enough.

Fortunately, she had insisted the captain of her father’s guard teach her the best fighting techniques for a person of her height and build. Unfortunately, in just a few short months, she had made quite a name for herself in a few small towns. As in, she had been kicked out of them for theft and starting fights. At some point it became necessary to sell her horse to keep herself fed and a roof over her head at night. Even still, she was having the time of her life, loving the unpredictable aspect of it all.

One afternoon, after nicking her lunch from a particularly unobservant baker, she was wandering a long neglected country road, overgrown with weeds and brambles, when she stumbled upon an old, derelict cathedral sitting on a hill, surrounded by sinister looking trees. Any sane person would stay well away from that place. Naturally, she smiled and began to jog toward it.

Opening the front door, she peered inside at the interior. There were pews lined up as if service were about to take place, except they were all disintegrating and covered in mold. There were cobwebs in every corner, every archway. She felt like just calling out to whoever might be inside would send dust falling from the rafters.

Even still.

“Hello?” She said in a moderately loud voice, echoing throughout the great hall. “Is anyone here?”

There was a clattering and low voices from a room in the back. She followed them and came upon a tiny kobold woman and a tallish human man speaking to each other in an undertone.

“Hey,” Kharis said, startling them. “You guys priests here?”

“Oh, gods, no,” The human said. “The priest has died. The last keeper of this place has kindly allowed us to stay here a few days to rest before we continue on.”

“Oh,” Kharis said. “I’m Kharis. Who are you two, by the way?”

Rupert and Sonah introduced themselves.

“Where are you two headed?” Kharis asked.

“Shornstone,” Sonah said. “We’re meeting up with a mage friend of his.” She gestured at Rupert. “What about you. Why are you here?”

“I’m traveling, too,” Kharis replied. “I’ve been doing it alone, but I’d be happy for some company, if you two are up for it.”

Sonah glanced at Rupert and shrugged. “She seems like she’d be fun.”

Rupert looked at Kharis dubiously, but nodded. “Well, we’d be okay with it, but you should ask DuMont when he comes back in.”

“Who?”

“The church keeper,” Rupert said. “He’ll be traveling with us, too. The priest, the one who died, raised him.” He pointed out toward the cemetery. “He’s out there burying him now.”

“Well, then, I’ll go ask,” Kharis said, turning to head out of the side door.

“Ah, no, I don’t think that’s a good idea!” Rupert called after her. “The poor fellow is in mourning! Leave him be!”

Ignoring him, she strode out into the afternoon air, looking for the keeper.

He was hard to miss. There, kneeling near a newly filled-in grave was a massive beast of a creature, something she had never seen before, and being royalty, she had seen quite a lot. He sat there silently, with four wide, unblinking eyes of red sclera and yellow pupils, and the bone of his lower jaw exposed, clinging to his head by a few sinews and tendons, fangs jutting out. Muscle was exposed here and there down his chest, his skin red and looked gravelly to the touch. His horns, taking up all of the space on the top of his head, were swirled with what looked like veins.

She approached as quietly as she could, unsure of this… person… or what he might do if disturbed.

“...excuse me…” She said gently.

He sat up from his crouch slightly and turned his head to stare at her. He said nothing and didn’t move.

“Hello,” She said. “Rupert and Sanoh said I should come out and introduce myself, seeing as how we’ll all be traveling together. I mean, if that’s alright with you,” she added hastily.

Still, he said nothing, just stared at her with unnerving intensity.

“You are DuMont, right?” She asked uncertainly.

“Yes,” He said. His voice was guttural and as gravelly as his skin, but it sounded as though he was intentionally trying to suppress it.

“Not much of a talker, are you?” Kharis said, laughing.

“You are a stranger,” He said plainly.

She gave a conceding nod. “That’s true.” She held out her hand. “I’m Kharis,” She said.

He reached out a hand that could have easily twice the size of her head and took her tiny one in it.

“Hello,” He said.

“See?” She said, letting go. “Now we’re not strangers anymore.” She gestured at the grave. “I’m sorry.”

He nodded and returned to his mourning, silent once more, the conversation seemingly over. Kharis left him and went back inside.

* * *

The next morning, after a breakfast that was made up of half of what was left of the cathedral’s larder, the other half of which was packed up for the trip, DuMont joined his three new friends on the road. He brought with him one of the smaller church bells, roughly the size of a barrel, the only clothes he owned, a vest and trousers ripped short around his knees, and left everything else behind He took one last moment to look back at the only home he’d ever known and bid it a final farewell, then followed behind the others toward an unknown, uncertain future.

* * *

Months went by. Rupert met up with his friend, Norman, a half-elf with tan skin and dark brown hair escaping an unhappy marriage, and added him to the group. They became adventurers then, traveling the country and taking jobs from local towns, clearing out dungeons and castles of unwanted creatures and such, chasing bandits, bounty hunting, and just generally any job that paid enough to spark their collective interest.

After one particularly nasty job involving an ogre that had taken up residence in a local elf’s wine cellar who’d nearly bitten off Kharis’s head, they were sitting around a campfire, discussing the details and counting out the coins between them.

All except for DuMont. He didn’t understand the purpose of money. He had told them they could keep any money they found or were given as long as they kept him fed. He didn’t need much to be happy; seeing the beauty and strangeness of the world that he could only have guessed at in his tower was plenty reward for him.

It had taken DuMont some time to open up to his new friends, but he enjoyed their company, even learning to laugh and joke, though he was still careful not to startle anyone with his voice. He was still hesitant to join their conversations; they often used words he didn’t understand, and he was too embarrassed to ask what they meant, afraid they would think him simple-minded. If they didn’t already, that is.

“Some wizard you are!” Sanoh was saying at Norman. “That fireball nearly singed the scales on my tail more than it did anything to to ogre!” She was carefully cleaning her scales, polishing them to a emerald shine.

“It’s partly your fault for being so noticeable!” He said, gesturing at her gleaming scales and jewelry. “What part of the concept of stealth is lost on you!”

“Hey, I am plenty stealthy,” She retorted. “You just suck at magic.”

“Bullshit!” He said, sitting up from his prone position and rolling up his sleeves.”I’ll summon lightning right now.”

“Oh, I’d love to see you try,” Sanoh replied smugly, folding her arms.

“Honey,” Rupert said nervously, putting an arm around her shoulder and snugging her in protectively. “Do you have to provoke Norman?”

“Yes,” Said said staunchly. “You’re a better mage than he is, and you don’t even try.”

“You just watch,” Norman said. He gestured with his hands and muttered in Arcane. The other four watched him with interest and caution as blue energy formed around his hands. DuMont twitched his head curiously, Rupert leaned away as Sanoh and Kharis leaned forward, watching eagerly. The blue energy fizzled and cracked, and in a flash of blue light that made everyone close their eyes against it. The sound of yipping opened their eyes again.

There, sitting in Norman’s grip, was a small dog, a corgi, happily barking and attempting to lick his face. Norman sat there, dumbfounded.

“I cast lightning!” He exclaimed, not sure what to do with the wiggling thing now in his hands. He set it down, and the dog turned circles and ran straight for DuMont, who reached out gingerly to touch the dog’s soft fur.

“Maybe its name is Lightning,” Kharis said. Everyone laughed. “Besides, it wasn’t you that was the problem. Stupid here needs to learn to swing that thing better.”

She gestured at DuMont’s weapon, a large, thick rail that he had tied the church bell to as a bludgeon. Dumont’s hands stilled for a second, but he said nothing and continued to pet the dog, who had nestled in his lap and was sighing happily.

That night, the fire died a little and everyone bedded down. The dog, who they all agreed must be named Lightning, slept in DuMont’s arms, who slept on the cold ground with no covering. Kharis, nearly dozing in her bedroll as everyone else snoozed, heard the words, “I’m not stupid,” in a soft, gravelly tone. She also heard someone get up, the sound of a disappointed dog being deposited on the ground, and large feet stalking off into the woods.

Kharis lay there, thinking. She hadn’t meant it as an insult, really; she was just being playful. But if she thought about it, she did kind of assume he was not intelligent. He didn’t talk much, and when he did, it was simple sentences and basic answers. She hadn’t really given it much thought; she hadn’t really given_ him _much thought beyond being the muscle of the group, assuming he was all mass and no substance, like the guards in the castle. Then again, maybe she was to quick to make such assumptions and it was just not something that she’d ever had to worry about.

Annoyed, though uncertain at who, she got out of her bedroll and tracked DuMont’s footprints out into the brush, not bothering to be quiet about it. But when she found him, she stopped short.

DuMont was sitting crouched with his knees drawn up, gently scratching the chin of a fawn, stroking its side and whispering to it softly.

For a moment, Kharis just watched. She had him pegged so wrong.

Then, when shifting her weight, she snapped a twig and both DuMont and the baby deer looked up. The deer took off, and left DuMont reaching after it in disappointment.

“Why did you do that?” He asked, still speaking quietly, like always. “I’d never seen a branch walker close up before.”

She was about to apologize when she stopped and tilted her head, confused. “A what?”

“A branch walker,” DuMont said. “At least, that’s what I call them. I never learned what they’re actually called.”

“How could you not know that?”

He shrugged. “Father Jor never told me. He was the only person I knew when I lived in the tower. No one else was allowed to see me, and he only talked about scriptures, so I don’t know much about the outside, even things as simple as what branch walkers are really called.”

Kharis frowned. “Why don’t you ask us when you come across something you don’t know?”

He looked away. “I don’t want any of you to think I’m stupid.” 

Her frown turned to a grimace. “That was a deer,” Kharis said. “A fawn specifically, which is a baby deer.”

He turned to look at her. “Deer.”

“Right.”

“Hmm…” He hummed. “That,” He said, pointing to a rabbit in the distance. “What is that?”

“What do you call it?” She asked, crouching down next to him with a smile.

“A pawpopper,” He said.

She laughed, but not in a mocking way. “It’s a rabbit,” She said. “What else? I feel like I could do this all night.”

“Would you? I just want to learn,” He said. She’d heard him say that before, but she hadn’t realized how sincere he’d been. She did indeed spend the night walking through the forest with him, trading names of the creatures and plants.

* * *

DuMont opened up even more after that, talking more freely and openly, especially with Kharis. Whenever he was confused about something, he’d ask her about it in private and she would explain it to him. He thought she may have told the others, because they also went out of their way to point out interesting things and talk to him about new things he’d never seen. He was grateful they understood and never made him feel dumb.

Several weeks later, after another ogre job, they had all gone to bed for the night, when DuMont got up as everyone was asleep to relieve himself in the woods. When he returned, he noticed Rupert and Sanoh sneaking away from the camp, hand in hand. They had left their belongings, but there seemed to be an urgency in their steps. Curious, he followed.

Despite how large he was, DuMont could move extremely quietly, so the couple never heard or saw him approach. He squatted down, watching as Rupert and Sanoh pressed their faces together, their lips sucking at each other in an odd display. They began to disrobe, showing Rupert’s skinny body and Sanoh’s tiny but voluptuous one. They touched each other’s skin all over, stumbling their way to the ground. Sanoh lay on the ground with Rupert between her legs, his tongue out and pressed against a fleshy entrance located there. She gasped and writhed under him, and he held her hips in place as he suctioned his mouth to the spot, making her moan loudly.

Afterward, Sanoh, despite her petite size, managed to shove Rupert on his back, and DuMont saw his… staff, as he called it… standing straight up. DuMont’s own staff twitched under his rough-hewn trousers, which was a new sensation.

He watched as Sanoh climbed onto Rupert, pushing Rupert’s staff into her entrance and gasping. Rupert gasped as well and grasped her… DuMont didn’t have a word for those. They were scaled, but also soft and squishy and they both seemed to enjoy playing with them.

Sanoh bounced and rocked on Rupert, her breathing coming faster and faster. Rupert grunted and moaned under her, his hips thrusting up into her. After some time of groaning and whimpering, both Sanoh and Rupert cried out as if in pain, their bodies tensing and quivering, and they finally collapsed, Sanoh on Rupert’s chest, his arms around her. They didn’t speak, just lay together, breathing hard, recovering. After a while, Sanoh sat up and grinned down at Rupert, doing the face-pressing thing again. Then they got up and began to clean themselves and redress. DuMont decided this would be a good time to retreat.

As he returned to camp, he saw Kharis coming out of the forest, restrapping her belt around her waist.

“Where were you?” She asked. “Where’s Rupert and Sanoh?”

“They…” DuMont started, pointing. “They’re… I don’t know…”

Kharis’s face split into a knowing grin. “Ah, I see. I’ve caught them sneaking off a few times. They think they’re so discreet.”

“You know what they…?” DuMont asked curiously.

“Ohhhh,” Kharis said softly. “It makes sense you wouldn’t have had the sex talk.”

“Sex talk?” He repeated, tilting his head.

“Yeah,” She said, turning and waving at him. “Come with me, I’ll tell you about it in private, so we don’t wake anyone. It’s sort of an awkward conversation to have.”

He tilted his head the other way like a puppy, but followed her. She led him to the river nearby and told him to sit back against a tree. He complied and she sat down next to him.

“Okay, so, what did you see?”

He described the things he had seen Rupert and Sanoh do. “I thought they were hurting each other at first, but they seemed to like it.”

She laughed softly. “It’s called sex. Most people do it.”

“Why?”

“Because it feels good, most of the time. Secondarily, it’s to make babies.”

“Were Rupert and Sanoh trying to make babies?”

Kharis snorted. “I highly doubt it. Rupert’s in no shape to be a dad, and I have my doubts about Sanoh, too.”

“So, they were doing it because it feels good?”

“Yeah,” Kharis confirmed. “Rupert and Sanoh have been together for a long while, I’ve gathered.”

“Traveled together, you mean?”

She shook her head. “No,_ together _together.”

He grumbled uncertainly. “I don’t understand.”

A shocked look crossed her face. “Oh. Oh boy, this is going to be more complicated than I thought. See… Rupert and Sanoh are in love.”

“Love?”

Kharis dragged her fingers down her face and groaned in exasperation. “Okay, so when people, usually two people, but it can be more than that occasionally, feel an attraction or a closeness to each other, and they care about them, it can turn into love. Love is… hard to explain.” She bit her lip and looked into the distance, thinking. “It’s like… I don’t know. I’ve never been in love.”

DuMont watched her flounder. He’d never known her to not be able to explain something. He thought she knew about everything.

“So sometimes people have sexual feelings. They want to feel good and they want to make their partner feel good, too. So they… have sex. People who love each other, who care very much about each other, tend to have sex a lot.” She tilted her head in thought. “Sometimes people don’t even care about the person they have sex with, though; they just want to feel good. Sometimes people can make themselves feel good. There’s lots of ways to feel pleasure.”

“What do you mean?” He asked.

She looked at him, intrigued. “Well, haven’t you ever… touched yourself?”

He placed a hand on his chest. “Like this?”

She laughed a little. “No, I mean…” She pointed at the crux of his legs. His staff jumped again.

“No,” He replied.

She shrugged a little mischievously. “Why don’t you try?”

“Right now?”

“Why not?”

He grunted. Slowly, he undid his belt and unlaced his trousers, opening them and letting his staff fall free. It was large, proportionate to his size, and made Kharis’s eyes widen.

“That’s a penis, by the way,” Kharis said with a smile. “I mean, there are other names for it, but officially, it’s called a penis.”

“What do I do?” He asked.

“Wrap a hand around it and stroke it up and down,” She said. “Like when you clean your rail after a battle.”

Tentatively, he reached down and took hold of it. It was soft, but was beginning to harden as he touched it. He had awoken sometimes with it hard, but he hadn’t known what to do about it and just waited until it went away. This was different than washing himself. It did… feel kind of good.

“Do you like it?” She asked, watching.

“I… I think so,” He said. “I’m not sure if I’m doing it right.”

“Then let me help,” She said, standing up and kneeling between his legs. He was surprised, and quite nervous, as she knelt there and took his… penis… in her hands. She needed both to get the job done, but it felt much, much better when she did it than when he did. She bent her head to lick it, and he gasped, his body tensing. She looked up at him and pulled her mouth off of him with a pop.

“Would you like to try what Sanoh and Rupert were doing?” She asked in a low, sultry voice.

“Do you love me?” He asked.

She tilted her head and considered him. “I care about you, DuMont. I don’t know if it’s love, but I care very much about you.”

“I… care for you, too,” DuMont said. “I have for a time.”

“So…? Would you?”

DuMont nodded. “I want to learn.”

She smiled and stood, beginning to undress in front of him. Her skin was flawless and smooth, unlike his. She seemed to him like a statue of a goddess in mortal form.

“You’re pretty big,” She said. “You might have to get me ready to take you.”

“How?”

“Remember what Rupert did to Sanoh with his tongue?” She said, sitting in the soft grass. “You won’t be able to use your mouth, but I bet your tongue is plenty talented.”

DuMont let his tongue spill out of his mouth. It was twice as long as her arm. Her eyebrows raised.

“Yeah, tha-that’ll do it.” She lay back and spread her legs. He looked at the flower between them and salivated. His thick tongue pressed itself there, and she moved against it, her head falling back in the grass. He followed her instructions, and before long, she was gasping for breath and begging him not to stop.

She stood up suddenly, dripping and flushed, and pushed him back, kissing his neck and chest. The contact felt different than before: it electrified his body and make his muscles tense. She sat him back against the tree and positioned herself over him, much like Sanoh had done with Rupert, and lowered herself down. Her brows drew together and her mouth opened as she slowly took him inside herself.

“Does it hurt?” He asked. He’d only ever seen that face on people who were in pain.

“No, it feels amazing,” She breathed back, situating herself on top of him. He was also experiencing an incredible feeling being inside. The walls were tensing and contracting around him, and it felt indescribable. At least to him.

“Thrust up,” She instructed him, and he obliged, careful not to hurt her until she shouted, “_Harder!_” They moved together wordlessly, huffing and moaning, and DuMont thought his heart might explode. This was bliss. This was more than any scripture or book could convey. This was holy. He heard the bells in his head and knew he was right where he was supposed to be.

“Hold me up,” She said breathlessly, putting her arms under her knees and pressing her knees to her chest. He put his massive hands around her sides, his fingers meeting in the back, and held her up, balanced on his lap.

“Thrust hard,” She commanded, and he obeyed. She howled in pleasure, and he himself began to grunt much louder than he intended. He wasn’t quite in control of his volume in this state, but for the first time, he didn’t care.

“Oh, gods,” She said between gasps. “I’m going to cum.”

He didn’t know what that meant, but he was feeling a pressure in his loins that was reaching a boiling point. As the wall of pleasure hit him, he roared for the first time, shouting out his ecstasy for the world to hear. She was also crying out as ribbons of his seed spurted out as quickly as it shot into her. He almost lost his grip on her, but she let go of her legs and tumbled forward onto his chest, wheezing. He was having trouble controlling his breath, as well.

They lay there, much the same as Rupert and Sanoh had done, and he cuddled her against his chest. He was still inside her and wasn’t willing to remove himself just yet. She was so warm against him.

Suddenly she sat up and looked around her in confusion.

“What’s the matter?” DuMont asked.

“Didn’t you hear that?” She asked him.

“No,” He replied. “What did you hear?”

“I could have sworn I heard a church bell tolling in the distance,” She said, still looking around. “It’s awfully strange for a bell to toll in the middle of the night.”

“It’s not strange,” DuMont said, smiling a little. “It’s a blessing.”

She looked at him with a dubious smile, but lay back down on his chest with a satisfied sigh.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another commission for @ocsmutpocalypse. Dumont and the party stop in a town to rest, and Kharis makes an important decision.

Sanoh, Rupert, Norman, and Dumont traveled together down the road to the next town, hoping to find paying work, while Kharis lay on Dumont’s back, eyes closed and arms behind her head as if sunbathing. He was walking on all fours as he often liked to do, and his back was so broad that she had no worry of falling off. She seemed to enjoy this mode of travel quite a lot and did it whenever the weather allowed. 

“Why do you do that?” Sanoh asked. “You treat Dumont like a horse and it’s weird.”

“He likes it,” Kharis said, rolling on her stomach and scratching gently at the base of his spine. “Don’t you, bubba?”

“I do like it,” He replied. “It’s nice to have you close by.”

“Aww, my big boy,” Kharis said, laying her cheek on his back. “So sweet to me.”

Sanoh snorted and shook her reptilian head. Rupert smirked at her and took her hand.

They came to a crossroads that had a signpost and stopped.

“Ah, good,” Rupert said. “Dumont, can you read the post? We’re going to Vasenville. Which way should be go?”

Dumont had spent most of his life living with a guardian who couldn’t read, therefore he’d never learned how to read himself. Rupert had been spending time with Dumont and was teaching him a number of things, including reading. Dumont was a very quick study, much to Rupert’s surprise. It was easy to underestimate Dumont’s intelligence based on his size and monstrous looks. paired with the fact that he’d had little to no education before meeting the group.

Dumont’s unblinking eyes looked at the post carefully for a moment, after which he said confidently, “left.”

“Good! Very good!” Rupert said, clapping a hand on Dumont’s upper arm, which was thicker than Rupert’s entire body. “Left we go!”

Dutifully, Dumont led the way toward Valenville.

Dumont tended to get a lot of funny looks when he went to different towns. He was a tiefling, but he was born… not quite right. He was far too large for his kind, nearly twice the height and width of even the tallest and burliest of tieflings. The bone of his lower jaw was exposed, and his eyes were large and bulging with no eyelids to cover them. He brick red, had no hair on his body, and his horns took up all of his scalp with blood-red veins running along them.

He was an unsettling person to look upon if you weren’t used to him, and it had drawn the ire of some of the towns they had gone to. His traveling companions were quick to jump to his defense, and Kharis was a force to be reckoned with when she was angry, but Dumont understood better than they did. His guardian, the priest of the church where he was raised, always kept him hidden and out of sight, not for a lack of love for Dumont, but for fear of what others would do to him if they found him.

He was lucky that the first people he met after his foster father’s death were kind. It would have been easy for a less than scrupulous person to use his innocence and naivete to enslave him.

As usual, he got a lot of stares as he lumbered through town with Kharis sitting across his shoulders, a leg dangling from either side of his head and a hand on each of his horns to steady herself. She narrowed her eyes and hissed at people who gawked at Dumont, and that was usually enough to force most people to avert their gaze.

Another problem Dumont had in most towns was that the inns they stayed in often weren’t large enough to accommodate him. Many times he couldn’t even get through the front door, so he ended up having to stay in the cellar, stables, or out in the back behind the building. in those cases, Rupert and Norman would set up a tent for Dumont to curl up in.

Thankfully, the stables were empty of horses and open for free shelter for those who couldn’t pay for an inn. Dumont laid out his large leather bedroll on the straw and settle himself for the evening as the others made their way toward the tavern. Kharis promised to return with his dinner.

He missed his friends when he had to sleep away from them, but it wasn’t much different than sleeping in the belltower of the church, so he didn’t mind it so much. Still, he was lonely.

After an hour, Kharis appeared with a large jug of mead and a platter of food, mostly de-boned meats and bread. He had no lips to chew properly, so he had to tear his food with his claws, chomp it once or twice with his large, sharp teeth, and then swallow it whole.

“Here you go,” She said, sitting with him. She looked around at the stable stall and sighed. “I’m sorry you’re reduced to sleeping in pen like an animal.”

“I don’t mind,” Dumont replied. “It’s free and plenty large enough for me, at least.”

“Well, I mind,” Kharis said venomously. “It’s demeaning. One day, I promise to take you to a place where you’ll fit through every door.”

“Is it like a church or a cathedral?” He asked.

She chuckled mirthlessly. “It might as well be, except the only god they really pray to is politics.” She looked off into the middle distance. “Maybe I shouldn’t take you there after all.”

“Would I embarrass you there?” Dumont asked. He often wondered if she found the attention he drew uncomfortable. He certainly did. After spending his entire life in the shadows, the sudden swarm of gawkers everywhere he went was disconcerting to him. He felt like the constant spotlight on him was a detriment to her journey.

“Absolutely not!” She said sharply. “If anything, _they _would embarrass me in front of _you_, the pompous twits, not the other way ‘round. And if they had a word to say about you, they’d be dealing with me.”

“Well, you are scarier than me,” Dumont said, laughing a little.

“Damn right, I am,” Kharis said, jutting her chin up.

“It would be nice to go to a place where I fit into proper buildings and things, though,” Dumont agreed.

Kharis looked him up and down, a coy smirk on her face. “I can think of a couple of places you fit very well,” She said suggestively.

Dumont often didn’t understand the context of people’s tones, like sarcasm or seduction, so when Kharis said things like this, it often confused him.

“Where is that?” He asked guilelessly, but when she began to unlace her bodice and untie her pants, and he whispered, “_oh_.”

“Hungry?” She asked him as she stripped down.

“For you, always,” He said.

She pulled the stall doors closed and walked to the opposite wall. “I want to ride your shoulders like I did this afternoon, only in reverse. Want to try?”

He nodded his head and came close, picking her up under her thighs and pushing her up against the wall, pinning her there and throwing her legs over his shoulders. His long, long tongue came out and pressed itself against her outer lips, massaging up one side and down another. Over the two months they had been together, she had taught him many techniques she enjoyed, and he used them to great effect. His immense strength and eagerness to please also worked greatly in his favor.

“Mmm,” She mewled, breathing heavily. Her hips moved of their own accord, and her lips swelled and heated as her arousal grew. She gripped his horns as he circled the bud with his tongue without actually touching it, stretching the pleasure and denial out as long as possible. Dumont had learned to tell when she was enjoying it and when she began to find it frustrating, and as soon as he felt that anxious tension in her body, he flicked the tip of his tongue against the pearl, making her hiss sharply.

He growled lowly, vibrating his tongue against her, the tip of it teasing her entrance as the broad part of it contracted against her clit, rubbing it up and down. Her entire pelvic area was sandwiched between his jaws. Her fingernails raked the back of his shoulders and across his neck.

“Inside,” She gasped, and Dumont obliged, thrusting his tongue into her roughly, quick and hard. She cried out, bracing against the wall hard. He held her hips fast in his grip so that she couldn’t escape and ravished her with his tongue. She was now making a lot of noise and he was a little concerned she would draw concerned passersby.

Finally, her orgasm crested and ebbed and she sighed in satisfaction, her eyes closed. He pulled her down from the wall, turned her over on her stomach, and pulled her hips toward him as be began unlacing his trousers.

“_Yes,_” She breathed. “_Yes. Yes, please._”

Dumont lined himself up, saliva from his jaws dripping on her buttocks as he leaned over her, he pressed himself into her dripping wet entrance. She whimpered over and over as he slowly slid as far inside as he could reach before causing her pain and pulled back out again. He started slow, but quickly gained pace as time went on.

“Oh, fuck,” She said through gritted teeth.

He bend over her body and grabbed her by her waist, lifting her up so that she was flush with his body. She reached back and grabbed his horns, howling with pleasure and he slammed into her. He knew she loved the feeling of being held up by him like she weighed nothing more than a ragdoll while still being in complete control at the same time. She was always in control.

A door opened someone outside of the stall, and a voice called, “Is everyone all right in here? I heard screaming--”

“Fuck off, asshole, I’m getting laid!” Kharis shouted at the intruder, and the door shut again quickly. “Don’t stop,” She ordered Dumont. He was happy to obey.

He could feel the now familiar wall of ecstasy welling up in him, slamming into his body, reaching from his head to his toes, his body locking up, and he roared, spilling into her repeatedly. Under his hand, he could feel her belly swell slightly from the amount of his seed pushing its way inside.

As she lay under Dumont, boneless and gasping, and he rolled to the side to prevent crushing her, they heard the door open cautiously again.

“Are you sure--”

“FUCK OFF!” Kharis yelled, and the door slammed shut.

“You don’t have to snap at the poor man,” Dumont wheezed. “He genuinely thought you were being hurt. He was doing a good thing.”

“He was interrupting my play time,” Kharis said, unmoved. “He deserved to be chided.”

“I’m afraid we may have terrified him,” Dumont said. “He may never come into this stable again.”

“Good. Let him think it’s haunted.” Kharis got up, wiped herself down with a spare cloth in her pack and lay on Dumont’s chest, fully naked. “You know, I have thought about it a lot.”

“About what?” He asked, confused. “Haunted stables?”

“No!” Kharis said, slapping his chest playfully. He jumped, like he always did to make her laugh, though it didn’t hurt at all. “About bringing you to that place I told you about. I sort of left without saying anything to anyone, so I should probably check in so they don’t think I’m dead.”

“Why did you leave?” Dumont asked. “You don’t talk much about your family. Were they cruel to you?”

“No, not cruel, but we… were weren’t much of a family, really. I’m closer to you and the party than I’ve ever been to them, and I’ve known you all less than six months.” She lay her head on him and sighed. “I think we do love each other, just not the way normal families do. I don’t know if that’s a product of our station, or if we’re just not predisposed to familial bonds, or what. It’s just the way it’s always been.”

“That sounds sad,” Dumont said.

“Yeah,” She agreed. “I suppose it is a little sad. But I do miss them. I should go back, and I’d like you to come with me. The others, too. What do you think?”

“I’ll go wherever you ask,” Dumont said. “I’m with you.”

“Aww,” She hugged him, or tried to, since her arms had no chance of making the full circle around him. “You’re so sweet.” She sat up on him, straddling him, with her hands braced on his chest, looking down at him with a shrewd expression.

“What’s the matter?” He asked.

“If… if I told you I had lied about some things, would you be angry?” She asked tentatively.

“It depends,” He said, cocking his head curiously at her. “What things?”

“Well… My name isn’t Kharis, for starters.”

“Oh. What is it?”

“It’s… Enania. Enania Enjor.”

“That’s very pretty,” Dumont said.

“Thank you,” She said, laughing nervously. “But that’s not all.”

“Tell me, then,” He said. “Don’t be afraid.”

She smiled softly. “Well… I’m not a ranger. Well, I am, but I’m something else, too. Something I was before I became a ranger.”

“Which is?”

She winced. “A princess.”


End file.
